As our party of adventurers approached the Shuswap village, a little bit removed from the bank of the Fraser, they were greeted with a chorus of barking dogs. A number of children who had been playing in the grass fled in fright into the tepees, from the doors of which, none the less, presently appeared many heads alike of young and old.

As the horsemen pulled up in front of the central tepee there came out to meet them a slight but hardy figure, not very tall, but erect and strong, dressed in ordinary western garb, and a wide hat such as is common in that part of the country. His face was dark, and his hair, worn long, was braided, and fell to his shoulders on his neck. Grave and unsmiling like most of his people, none the less his eyes wrinkled a little bit about the corners as now he recognized the leader of the band of horsemen. Advancing, he extended his hand to Uncle Dick and greeted him very pleasantly.

“How-do,” said he.

The party now dismounted, and their leader turned to his young companions. “This,” said he, “is Leo Tennes, the man I told you would be our guide down the Canoe River. When I tell you that he has run the Big Bend of the Columbia more than once I have said all there is to say about his fitness.”

He now introduced each of his young comrades in turn to Leo, who shook hands with them gravely and with dignity, but looking at them keenly meantime. He was evidently surprised at their youth, and perhaps none too well pleased, although obliged to admit to himself that these boys already had undergone many hardships to get this far on their journey.

Moise himself, usually light-hearted and talkative, now became silent and dignified also as he and Leo stood looking at each other. They shook hands, and each spoke to the other in his own tongue. Then both laughed.

“Me Shuswap!” said Leo.

“Cree!” rejoined Moise—“North Cree, me.”

Then, to the surprise and interest of the others, these two, unable to converse in any common tongue except English, which neither seemed to fancy at the time, began to employ the singular sign language of the savage tribes, more or less universally known throughout the American continent. Moise put his two forefingers together parallel to show that he and Leo were friends. He pointed back across the mountains, and, placing his head on his hands and raising his fingers several times, signified that he had come, so many sleeps, to this place. He said they had come horseback—straddling his left forefinger with two fingers on his right hand. Then smilingly he pointed to the boys and to his own heart, and made a motion as though trying to break a stout stick, thus saying to Leo that their hearts were strong.

Leo stood looking at him unsmiling, and when he had finished threw out his right hand in front of him, palm down, by which he said: “That is all right. It is good. I am satisfied.”

“Oh, pshaw! Moise,” said Uncle Dick, laughing, “you and Leo can both talk English a great deal better than you let on. I’ll say, Leo, that our man Moise is as good in a boat as you are yourself, so you need not be uneasy. As for the rest of us, we’ll undertake to keep up our end. When will you be ready to start?”

“Maybe-so to-night, maybe-so to-morrow,” said Leo.

“And can you take care of our horses for us as I wrote you last fall?”

“Yes. Horse all right here. You get ’um next year all right.”

“Very well,” said Uncle Dick. “We’ll just unpack and turn them over right here.”

The boys were very regretful at saying good-by to their faithful animals, especially the saddle-ponies which had carried them safely so far. They stood looking at them rather ruefully.

“Never mind,” said Uncle Dick. “Leo has got some hay for them, and they will winter well here. I’ll warrant you they’ll be very glad to trade the trail for this pleasant valley here, where they can live in idleness and get fat for a year.

“Now, about the boat, Leo,” he resumed.

“All right. Got two boats,” said Leo. “I make ’um.” And he led the way to an open spot in the bushes where there stood two newly completed boats, flat-bottomed and double-ended, with high sides, the material all made of whip-sawed lumber gotten out by Leo and his people.

Uncle Dick walked up to the boats and looked them over carefully. “Pretty heavy, Leo,” said he, “but they’ll do to run downhill all the way.”

“She’s good boat,” said Leo. “Need ’um strong.”

“Yes, about twenty-two feet long each one—that will carry us and our supplies nicely. You and your man will take one boat, and Moise and I the other. I think I’ll put the boys in our boat. What man are you going to get to go with you, Leo?”

“My cousin George; he’s good man. We make hunt last spring down the Canoe River.”

“What were you after?”

“After grizzlum bear.”

“Did you get one?”

“No, not get one.”

“Not one? And I thought that was a good bear country!”

“Not get one,” said Leo. “Get sixteen.”

“Sixteen! That’s something different. That looks as though we might expect some bears ourselves this spring.”

“All right, plenty grizzlum. Maybe-so forty, fifty mile.”

“What does he think about the running on the Canoe River, Uncle Dick?” inquired Rob. “Is it going to be bad water?”

“Not too bad water,” said Leo, turning to Rob. “Snow not too much melt yet on big hills. We take wagon first.”

“A wagon!” exclaimed John. “I didn’t know there was a wagon within a thousand miles.”

“My cousin other side river,” said Leo, proudly, “got wagon. Bring ’um wagon two hunder’ miles from Fort George on canoe. His horses heap kick wagon sometam, but bime-by all right. We get work on railroad bime-by.”

Rob and John stood looking at each other somewhat puzzled. “Well,” said John, “I thought we were coming to a wild country, but it looks as though everybody here was getting ready to be civilized as fast as possible. But even if we have a wagon, where are we going with it?”

“There’s a perfectly good trail up to Cranberry Lake, the summit of this divide, as I told you,” said Uncle Dick. “I think Leo would rather take one of the boats by wagon. The rest of us can push the other boat up the McLennan, part way at least.”

“Good trail,” said Leo. “Suppose you’ll like, we got horse trail down Canoe River forty mile now. Many people come now. I been to Revelstruck [Revelstoke] three tam, me and my cousin George—part way horse, part way boat. Bime-by go on railroad. That’s why my cousin buy his wagon—work on railroad and get money for ticket to Revelstruck.”

“Well, what do you know about that, Rob?” said John. “This country certainly is full of enterprise. What I don’t understand is, how they got a wagon up the Fraser River in a canoe.”

After a time Leo led them down to the bank of the Fraser and showed them several of the long, dug-out canoes of the Shuswap, with which these people have navigated that wild river for many years. He explained how, by lashing two canoes together, they could carry quite a load without danger of capsizing; and he explained the laborious process of poling such a craft up this rapid river. The boys listened to all these things in wonder and admiration, feeling that certainly they were in a new and singular country after all. Once all the trade of the Pacific coast had passed this very spot.

“Well now, Leo,” said Uncle Dick, “you go get your cousin George, and let us begin to make plans to start out. We’ve got to hurry.”

“Oh, of course we’ve got to hurry!” said John, laughing. “I never saw you when you were not in a hurry, Uncle Dick.”

“S’pose we put boat on Canoe River or Columby River,” said Leo, smiling, “she’ll go plenty hurry, fast enough.”

By and by he brought another Indian of his own age, even darker in color and more taciturn.

“This George,” said he, “my cousin. I am mos’ bes’ grizzlum-hunter at TÊte Jaune. George is mos’ bes’ man on boat.”

“And Moise is the most best cook,” said Uncle Dick, laughing. “Well, it looks as though we’d get along all right. But, since you accuse me of always being in too big a hurry, I’ll agree to camp here for the night. Boys, you may unroll the packs. Leo, you may get us that mosquito-tent I left with you last year.”